A couple of years ago I was commissioned to write a short for The Bush Theatre, for their Black Lives, Black Words festival. I could have written a million things about Black lives with Black words and have them performed by some of the best Black talent Britain has to offer; yet there I was handing over a letter, prioritising a white actress, not doing my usual trick of hiding my truths in the voices of a million characters, but exposing them myself blatantly. An idea had landed that if I could put my words into someone elses mouth, I could maybe take a punt on what they might say. And if I spoke on behalf of this actor guessed their words, their feelings when would it stop being fun for them? And at that point would could a white person finally hear what I have to say?
Damn. Lets see if this works.
And then the show goes up. And then the DMs start. Sent from audience members, friends friends of audience members, wanting to write their own letter. They too had things to say about privilege, parenthood, feminism, being a white man you name it. They wanted to keep this conversation going. Only they wanted it in the DMs. Chris Sonnex, however, had started to wonder what it could look like out in the world. And so, with the support of our brilliant director Milli Bhatia, our festival was born: Other Letters Left Unsaid.
Thank you to all the writers for sharing your stories for having the courage to say what is, more often than not, left unsaid.
Rachel De-lahay
November 2019
My White Best Friend (And Other Letters Left Unsaid) was originally commissioned by The Bunker Theatre and was curated by Rachel De-lahay, Milli Bhatia and Chris Sonnex.
March 2019
Artistic Director: Chris Sonnex
Director: Milli Bhatia
Designer: Khadija Raza
DJ & Sound: Duramaney Kamara
Stage Manager: Sylvia Darkwa Ohemeng
Assistant Stage Manager: Sam Hackney-Ring
Lighting & Production: Hannah Roza Fisher
Producer: David Ralf
With thanks to: Tim Kelly, Jida Akil, Georgiana Barcan, Gabrielle Lockett, Chlo Abley, Chloe Nelkin Consulting
November 2019
Artistic Director: Chris Sonnex
Director: Milli Bhatia
Designer: Khadija Raza
DJ & Sound: Duramaney Kamara
Scenic Artist: Madeleine Young
Stage Manager: Constance Oak
Assistant Stage Manager: Devon Muller
Lighting & Production: Hannah Roza Fisher
Producer: David Ralf
With thanks to: Phoebe Neal
NOTE: This letter is to be held and read aloud by the named actor as though her diary, written by somebody else.
First up, a request from the writer Can we just do a quick audience reshuffle? For fairness. Just to see white, able-bodied men fall back.
Not to segregate. With our little shuffle were just saying, we know whats going on out there, but in here, this space is safe and you are more than valued and loved. Thank you.
So I am going to read something. Apparently.
My White Best Friend. By Rachel De-lahay.
Right. This is Rachel doing me. If that makes sense? Hopefully it will. Okay
Hi! My name is
Im best friends with Rachel De-lahay.
Best.
Im also an actor hence And Im stood here representing myself. Literally. And also every other white friend of Rachels.
Ever.
In Birmingham, where Rachel is from, her friends were mainly Black and Asian, but she doesnt see them that much nowadays. They text and FaceTime, and she goes back, though not as often as shed like, cause, you know life. So she misses them. A lot.
But its okay cause we The collective of me and Rachels other white friends We met, nearly thirteen years ago.
Wow. Thirteen years.
Weve lived together, got drunk together, experimented with drugs together, fallen in love with each other, seen each other fall in love with others. Helped mend heartbreak. Fought. My God, have we fought. Laughed, cried, sang, to Britney and Rihanna, at the top of our voices, in our bedrooms, in pyjamas, on an exclusive diet of Blossom Hill.
Rachel once held back my hair as I threw up on the night bus.
I was vomiting between my legs after having one too many free glasses of Cristal in the VIP section of China Whites. I said it then, Ill say it again, Cristal is literally wasted on twenty-one-year-olds who drink Lambrini when getting ready.
We started a diet together, once, eating an excellent three-bean casserole that I prepared. Then on our way to a gig Rachel nearly passed out on the tube from weakness and I had to get her off, and buy her a king-size Twix.
I borrowed her dress on holiday and it looked better on me and she hated me for it.
Then the day Rachel found out she was going to be paid to rewrite her first ever play, I was with her. In Chanel on Bond Street.
We were staring at the life we wanted and when she got off the phone we sat down in front of a quilted, navy, lambskin, two-fifty-five flap bag and thoughtone step closer.
Then a sales assistant started talking to us and somehow got us confused with people who were legitimately capable of buying said bag so we quickly left, and went to The Botanist where I bought us a Bellini. Mine orange, Rachels red.
What Im saying is, I cant replace her decades-long friendships from back home. I cant be Neetu or Daina, who are both fucking ace. Ive met them, lots. But we have known each other for a really long time now and we arefamily.
*
The first time I met her other family, her Daina and Neetu, they came down together for the birthday party of one of the girls from our drama school. Well, they came down to see Rachel, and Rachel dictated the circumstances. Sowe were gonna all hang for the first time.
I was a little nervous, as anyone is when theyre about to meet the friends of your new best friend. You wonder ifits gonna work, basically. If therell be jealousy, a jostling of position. But there wasnt. Really. It was easy.
Me and Neetu got told off, quite vehemently, by Rachel, for pouring and drinking Malibu and Coke in the back of Rachels car, after we promised we wouldnt, cause We understood there was literally no way to guarantee we wouldnt spill any. Which we did. Lots.
But Neetu laughed which allowed me to laugh, as Neetu had known Rachel for way longer so That was the start of cementing me and Neets.
Then Daina asked me where I was from, and I said Nottingham, and for the rest of the night I became Daphne as in
